


Mycroft's Umbrella

by MissInComplete



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, John hates Mycroft, Mary designed Mycroft's umbrella, Mary is ex cia, Mary knows Mycroft, Mary's Past, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft IS the British Government, Mycroft was Mary's boss, Mycroft's Meddling, POV Mary Morstan, Post S2, pre S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 15:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10311464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissInComplete/pseuds/MissInComplete
Summary: So this is a random one shot that appeared in my head when I read something on tumblr about how comfortable Ghost!Mary was with Mycroft’s umbrella.It takes place during Sherlock's absence/death.





	

 

Mary sat in the back of the large black car in utter internal panic. She pulled her handbag into her lap and glanced at all the windows and doors,  _ Locked. _ She glanced up at the sun roof and contemplated if she could kick it through if the car were to crash or have a different kind of accident. 

Conceding that right now she was trapped she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes.  _ It's over. I've not been active for years - I'm either being called back in the game or it's the end of it.  _

The agent who had managed to negotiate her into the proverbial hearse hadn't been anyone she recognised, and she didn't really come across as a CIA agent now she came to think of it. She spent the entire time torn between her blackberry and smirking words at Mary until the random gentleman at the top of the street indicated to the weapon in his blazer. 

She was supposed to be meeting John for lunch in half hour, he'd be worried if she didn't make it - he was always a little stressed,  _ protective? Defensive?   _ Mary wasn't sure but there was definitely something there. It could just be the PTSD from the time in Iraq but there was something else. It was  _ way too early _ in the relationship to ask him though. 

The car pulled to a stop.

_ Or way to late. _

Mary climbed out the car before the driver had chance to open her door and she slipped her hand into her handbag as it sat on her hip. She figured the small gun, a token from her agent days, that she had stored in the zip compartment at the bottom of the bag. A small smile to the man who gestured for her to enter the run down bunker and he followed close behind her as she made her way in. 

There was a  solo chair placed in the middle of a large hall, an old canteen she'd decided, and a low hanging light that glowed making it something from an interrogation scene from old movie. 

_ Clip clip clip  _ went her heels along the floor, as she stood behind the chair she heard another set of shoes.

_ Clip-tap Clip-tap clip-tap _

_ “ _ Please, sit.” Came the voice from the shadows. 

“I’ll stand if it's all the same.” 

If the lights had been brighter she would have scene the small smile that hit his thin lips for a moment.  _ She hasn't changed.  _ “I have somewhere to be.”

“Mary Elizabeth Morstan. Dangerous to pick an alias not so far from another.” He paused, he sounded amused, “Please remove your hand from the gun, or this could get unnecessarily  _ uncomfortable. _ Doctor John Watson has been delayed also, so you'll still have your  _ date. _ ” Now he sounded fed up. 

“What do you want?” Mary had removed her hand from the gun but not from the bag. She hadn't felt this nervous in a long time. 

“An CIA agent-” 

“ _ Retired _ CIA.” 

The man hummed, “What could you possibly want with John Watson?” 

Mary frowned and her eyes blinked in confusion, “What has John got to do with my work?” 

Mycroft walked forward slowly letting the light catch his face and stood leaning on his umbrella.

“Mycroft?!” Mary exclaimed, almost laughing. “What the hell are you playing at?!” He smirked as she continued. “Bloody bastard, scaring me like that.” She walked forward and smiled at him fondly, holding her hand out towards his umbrella. He quirked an eyebrow and rolled his eyes but handed it over all the same. 

Mary threw it up and assessed the weight and then tapped it on the floor, “Did you…?” His lip twitched. She beamed and gave a sharp tug to the top of handle revealing the sword, a second tug and the handle became a gun very similar to the one in her hand bag. She gave a very smug smile, these mods were her suggestion.

He took it back and hooked it on his arm, “How's thing at HQ?” Mary asked casually. He ignored her question in favour of lighting a smoke. “Missed me?” She grinned. 

“Still obnoxious then. How's civilian life suiting you?” He smirked when she retorted that he would know better than she did given he's been keeping tabs. He didn't correct her just yet that the reason he'd found her was to do with the surveillance around Dr Watson and not herself.

“Why have you sort me out? I'm not going back in- I can't.” Mary sat in the lone stale plastic chair and leaned forward, looking up at Mycroft. “I'm finally settling in. Any information you need you can get from the team- I'm sure majority are still active. Any other legwork you must have other agents you can go to?” 

_ “ _ I'm not here to ask you back into the field Miss Morstan. I have a private  _ obligation  _ to keep an eye on Doctor John Watson. You crossed his path. Naturally I intervened given your  _ colourful  _ past.”

“You thought I'd gone rogue? I'm not one of your usual goons-” Mary laughed out.

He raised his eyebrows and took a drag of his dwindling cigarette. “My ‘goons’ are hardworking honest members of the civil service,  _ not _ unlike yourself.” He smirked at how affronted she became and then continued, “And it's not out of the realms of possibility. It's difficult to adjust to such a  _ normal  _ life - you might have chosen to seek out some private contracts just to feel alive again. Though given your choice of partner you shouldn't need much to fulfil that need any more.”

Mary paused for a moment, letting letting the words sink in.  _ John? John's just an old army doctor at an ordinary practice.  _ She told Mycroft as much. 

Now it was his turn to pause. 

“Doctor John Watson never left the war, he just switched battlefields.” 

“Why do you have your eye on John? An Invalid army doctor can't hold much stock in your line of work?” 

Mycroft stared with a pinched expression for a moment and then sighed. He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes,  “As I said, a personal interest. A favour of sorts. He's very important to someone who is unable to watch over him, so I am for the time being.”

A small ‘o’ formed on Mary’s lips and she didn't push the case further. “Well, whatever the circumstance he's lucky to have you on his side.” The closest Mary has ever seen to guilt crossed Mycroft's features. “It's been good to see you. I'm glad you're still on top.” She squeezed his arm and he gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “I've got John Watson now, you can relax a little.” 

And with that she climbed back into the big black car and head back to London to the restaurant to meet John.

As she climbed out she heard a shout from nearby. “Mary?!” John launched toward the car and tried to pull the handle just as it pulled off. Opting for a swift kick at the wheel before it go away. “Are you alright?! What did that bastard say to you?” John leaned into Mary and checked her over. “Interfering son of a bitch.” He muttered under his breath. 

“What was that about?” Mary asked, referring to the violent reaction but John misunderstood and sighed.

“It's time I told you about Sherlock…”


End file.
